Pale Nightmares
by Pachamama9
Summary: After returning from a trip, Ginny finds that Harry has lost his grip on reality in her absence. One-shot.


_A/N: After returning from a trip, Ginny discovers that Harry has gone nearly mad in her absence._

 _Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

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"Harry?" I call out as I open our front door. I'd been gone on a two-week trip with the Holyhead Harpies to display my skills for the team. It was practically a fourteen-day interview. Every moment was vital to my possible acceptance onto the team, but finally I've returned home to my husband where I can relax and... "Harry!" I shout. Maybe he didn't hear me. I can see his car in the driveway, but it doesn't seem like anyone is home. "Harry, honey, are you home?"

I hear something crash to the floor. It's coming from the kitchen. I whip out my wand, and as I step forward, I feel something crunch beneath my shoe. I lift my foot to see a smattering of glass all over the floor, a pool of water just a few feet in front of me. My flower case, the one I got from Mum a month back, has been smashed to pieces. "Harry?" I look into the hallway, peering around the corner, trying to figure out where my husband is.

Gripping my wand tightly, I walk into the kitchen with caution, finding not a thief nor a robber, but our house-elf, Pinky, sweeping up pieces of broken glass into a small dustpan. "Merlin's beard, Pinky," I gasp, placing my hand over my heart. "You gave me a fright. Are you alright? What happened?"

"Pinky is sorry, miss," the little elf squeals. "Pinky is fine."

"What happened? Did someone break in?" I press on.

The house-elf hesitates. "Pinky does not know if she should tell, miss."

"I won't be angry, Pinky, if that's what you're worried about," I assure her, kneeling down carefully in the glass. I try to repair the broken glass, but for some reason it won't fix itself.

"Pinky tried that, miss," she says, noticing my attempt to fix the vase magically. "Pinky thinks the vase must be cursed, miss."

"No matter," I say, flicking my wand to slide all the glass the side. I'd clean it up later. "Now, what happened?"

Pinky sighs, looking down at her shoes. "it was Master Harry, miss."

I take a step back. "What?"

"Pinky tried to stop him, miss," she says frantically, noticing my strong reaction, "but Master Harry did not seem to hear Pinky."

"Where is Harry now, Pinky?" I inquire.

"In the bedroom, miss," Pinky replies. "But, miss," she continues, stopping me as I start to rush up the stairs, "Master Harry is not himself. Pinky wants Miss Ginny to be careful."

"I will, Pinky. Thank you. Don't worry about the mess. I'll clean it up. Just take the rest of the night off, alright?"

The house-elf nods, beaming at me. "Thank you, miss."

Then I run up the stairs, sprinting to the bedroom door, my heart pounding in my chest. The hallway leading to our bedroom... It looks like a rhinoceros has torn through it, with picture frames smashed and tables flipped over. What in Merlin's name happened while I was gone?

I grab the doorknob. "Harry!" I cry, realizing it's locked. "Harry, open this door!" Something crashes to the ground. The door is locked. "Harry, open the door!" What am I supposed to— "Stupid, stupid," I mutter, smacking myself in the forehead.I point my wand at the lock and do a quick Alohamora and throw the door open, bursting into our bedroom. "Harry!" I exclaim.

He is standing in the middle of the room, eyes bloodshot, darting every which-a-way, hair wild, and hands clenched into fists. He is breathing hard, sucking in deep breaths and then shakily breathing them out. Around him are smashed objects, torn-apart books, and spilled potions.

"Harry?" I whisper, trying to understand what happened here.

He doesn't seem to hear me. Instead, he lunges for one of the many pictures on our family portrait wall: one of Teddy Lupin. "Harry!" I cry, dropping my wand and rushing to him. I grab him by the shoulders, trying to get him to stop… stop whatever he's doing. "Harry, look at me!" His gaze remains on the photo, and he tries to throw me off of him. I don't think he even recognizes me, knows who I am. He's starting to scare me. "Harry, love," I say softly, swallowing down a world of pain, "look at me." He stops struggling abruptly, hearing me for the first time. "Harry," I breathe. "What's wrong?"

His eyes flicker to mine. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he looks thinner. Not physically per say, but the way he is holding himself. He stands like a hungry man, hunched over and desperate. His skin is unnervingly pale, and his eyes are red, maybe due to lack of sleep. He looks like he hasn't slept or eaten in days. I was only gone for a couple of weeks. What could have happened to him? His breathing slows down as my hands touch his face. "Harry, love, what happened?"

His breathing hitches, and he turns away from me so I won't see him cry, although I know that is exactly what he is doing. His shoulders shake.

I'm hurting inside from his stubbornness, his willingness to never look defeated. "Harry, it's okay." Maybe he's mistaking this for bravery. "You can tell me," I whisper. I'm trying to soothe him, longing so to hold him. I grab his hand, and intertwine his fingers with mine.

I feel him relax, finally letting go, and he turns around, slumping against me. "I can see them," he whimpers, finally, after a few minutes of silence. "I can hear them, too." His voice cracks, and his whole body tenses up.

"Who, Harry?" I whisper. I can't stand to see him like this.

"They won't leave—" He cuts himself off, whipping around in a mixture of fear and anger.

"Harry!" I touch his arm, gripping his wrist with my hand to stop him from doing any more damage and to ground him to reality. "Harry, talk to me. Who can you see?"

It takes him about a minute to respond. "Sirius," he begins, his voice shaky. "Lavender. Dobby. Colin. Snape." His other hand slides around my waist, holding me close, like a lifeline. "Cedric. Remus. Tonks. Dumbledore." He lets out a small, heart-wrenching sob before reciting the last one. "Fred."

The sound of my brother's name rings through the room like a tolling bell, and I swallow hard. He's seeing _ghosts_ of people who died... I don't know how to handle this. "How long?"

He presses his palms into his eyes as if he can blind himself before seeing any more of them. "A couple of months."

Something inside of my chest contorts, twisting painfully. "And you didn't tell me?"

He starts to cry.

"It's okay, Harry," I begin. "It's fine. You—"

"I'm sorry, Ginny," he cries, starting to sob. "I-I never wanted any of this to happen…" he starts to cry, leaning down and resting his head on my shoulder.

I shush him, trying to comfort him. "It's not your fault, Harry. None of it is. You did your best, and that's all that matters."

"My best wasn't enough, Gin. I got all of them killed, and I could have done more…" He breathes in sharply. "I should have died, not them."

"Don't say that, Harry," I tell him. "You couldn't have done anything. If anything it's Voldemort's" —he flinches— "fault, not yours."

Harry continues to cry, and even though he tries to hide it like he did before, I still hold him and let him cry on me, because I know that he's been through so much, and he all he needs is a little love. "I love you so much, Ginny," he whispers. "And I've already hurt you. I'm sorry."

"You didn't do anything," I say, putting my finger on his lips when he tries to protest. "You did everything you could to protect me and my family, and I know that. I love you, okay? Don't forget."

He smiles at me, and however small it may be, it is enormous in this moment. "I love you, too, Gin." He says the words, but his voice is still pained.

The scariest part of this whole situation is that I don't think it has a magical cause. If Harry had suffered from a hallucinogenic substance, flawed potion, or dark curse, I could understand. But the fallen only haunt Harry's mind because he can't handle the fact that he's lost so many loved ones in the short span of his life so far.

I know he's been having trouble adjusting to normal life, even though it's been a few years since the Second Wizarding War ended. He sees Lord Voldemort around every corner; since we moved in together, I have not known one time where he slept peacefully throughout the night. I know that he has struggles, but I didn't know they were carved this deep inside of him.

I kiss his cheek and hold him closer as if I can heal him right then and there. "Don't worry, Harry," I remind him. "I'm going to get you some help."

He nods into my shoulder, mumbling something I can't quite make out.

"Don't worry," I repeat. "We're going to be okay." I try not to cry, but it's so hard not to. I smooth his hair, pressing my lips against his forehead as a fresh round of tears streams from him. "We're going to be okay."

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 _A/N: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! Please follow and favorite if you can!_

 _Challenges used:_

 _Are You Crazy Enough To Do It Challenge - #557 (Pale Nightmares)_

 _If You Dare Challenge - #980 (Give Up The Ghost)_

 _Character Diversity Boot Camp - #17 (substance), Ginny Weasley_

 _Your Favorite House Boot Camp - #49 (stream), Gryffindor_

 _The Golden Snitch - Through The Universe - #15 (Aurora) - character) Ginny Weasley_

 _The Golden Snitch - Ollivander's Wand Shop - Sir Cadogan - 9 inch - Write about a Gryffindor character._


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